Kitten
by irmaida
Summary: "This girl, Prim, has saved his life. And now he must return the favor. He doesn't want to owe anyone. He's not dependent, he is proud and strong." Prequel to Buttercup. Buttercup's early days as a kitten, before Prim dies.


_Kitten_

001.

Milk is the first thing he senses.

His eyes aren't even open yet. He's a newborn kitten, completely helpless and vulnerable. But the milk is there, and as long as he can eat, he knows he's fine.

002.

He's hungry again.

Now his eyes are open, and his mother's milk has just run dry.

She is too sickly, she mews. Normal, healthy cats should be able to produce milk for as long as their kits need them. But she is a weak street cat who cannot get food. All she can do is dig through the garbage cans and beg on the streets and pull up plants, while her kit mews and mews for food. The kit wants to do more than just mew, but he's too young to take care of himself. All he can do is depend on his dying mother. And he doesn't like being dependent. If she dies, _he _dies.

She looks upon him pitifully as she gives him nothing but a few dry crusts while she wolfs down the more substantial foods she has found.

He's still hungry.

003.

His mother's dead, and he feels nothing.

No sadness. No guilt. Nothing. He's never cared for his mother. She always fed herself first and then gave him the leftovers. From what he can tell, his mother used to be a pampered housecat until the humans who kept her couldn't afford her anymore and kicked her out, leaving her on the streets. The reason why she died, the kitten thinks, is because she was too accustomed to the soft house life. Too dependent. Well, he's never going to be like that.

He's older now, old enough to take care of himself. Sort of. He's still young, very young. He learns how to beg. He goes to the shinier side of the town he lives in, the side with the fuller trashcans, and tries to look as small and cute and pitiful as possible. Sometimes, some of the humans with the bigger bellies will toss him a scrap or two. But he can't live off scraps and begging forever.

He teaches himself how to catch mice. He finds that it's easy. The mice are so stupid. He's ruthless with them.

After all, as long as _he_ can eat, everything is fine.

004.

Begging doesn't work anymore, and he knows it.

He's hideous.

He'd never been a particularly handsome cat, but as a little orange-yellow kitten, he'd been small and soft and pathetic. Not small and soft and pathetic enough that someone would let him into their home and feed him forever, but small and soft and pathetic enough that occasionally someone would toss him something edible.

Not anymore. He's big and scraggly and ugly.

Encounters with wild dogs have left him with a torn ear and mashed nose. He hasn't properly washed himself in days. He's so thin he can see his bones. Now when he takes to the streets to beg, people shoo him away. Even the ones with the big bellies don't bother tossing him a thing.

He doesn't like begging anyway, not anymore. He can take care of himself. He knows which plants to eat and where the mice are most abundant and eventually he'll even run into a dead carcass, if he's lucky. Begging is just a last resort.

005.

Is this how his mother felt like in those days before she died?

He's so tired he can't catch mice, not even the stupid ones. He can't remember the last time he's eaten anything. He pads around the shinier part of the town, trying to look small and soft and pathetic. But it's hopeless, and the humans just shoo him away.

He's dying, and it's scary. He can't feed himself, and nothing is okay.

He pads over to the dirtier part of the town. He knows that nobody there will even look his way—some will even try to kill him—but he still tries to look small and soft and pathetic. Naturally, no one pays attention.

He goes over to the fence, because sometimes there are edible plants around there, when he tears his ear on the fence. His torn ear snags on the fence and the wound reopens, bleeding freely.

Great, just great.

Well, he thinks to himself. At least after he dies he'll become a decent meal to some other starving cat.

It's a cat-eat-cat world, after all.

006.

"Oh, you poor kitty," says a human voice.

He's given up. Too tired, too hungry, too hurt. He can hardly even open his eyes. But the voice is filled with pity.

That's good. Maybe if he looks small and soft and pathetic enough, then the human will give him a scrap. It won't help him very much, but it might extend his life by a few days.

Then he remembers how ugly he is and where he is. He's in the dirtier side of town, where a dead cat is just seen as food. He lives in a cat-eat-cat world.

But the human crouches down and looks him in the eye. It's a small human, with blue eyes and yellow hair.

"You poor kitty," she repeats. She reaches out to touch him, and he reflexively recoils.

"Don't be afraid of me, kitty. I'm your friend," says the human. "My name's Prim, short for Primrose. What's your name?"

He says nothing.

"You don't have one? What about… Buttercup?" She smiles. "The color of your fur is the color of that flower. A pretty name for a pretty kitty. Don't you think so?" She reaches out to touch him once again, and this time, he doesn't spring back. He lets the human, this Prim, touch him. Her touch is soothing, and she pets him gently. But it's not petting he wants, it's _food_.

He meows, trying to tell her this.

"Oh, you're hungry? Well, I'll take you home to my family, and I'll get you some food, okay?" she says, and she picks him up.

Normally he'd protest in some way, but he's so tired that he just lets himself be carried. He's tired, and his eyelids droop, and he falls asleep.

007.

_Meowr!_

His eyes snap open, and automatically he begins to flail and wail for all he's worth. There is water, which would normally be good, but there is much too much of it, and he is drowning. Why is he drowning? That girl! Prim! She must be the one drowning him. He should've known, that in a cat-eat-cat world, a nice girl who would actually feed him was too good to be true. He flails around some more, and he catches a glimpse of his drowner for a second.

It's not Prim.

It's a different girl, a bigger girl, with brown hair and gray eyes, who stuffs his face into the water the moment it surfaces.

"Katniss, stop!" says a familiar voice. It's Prim!

"Why, Prim, why?" whines his attacker.

He feels hands lift him out of the water, and, shivering, he snuggles into Prim's warmth.

"Look at him," says Prim. "He's shivering! Poor Buttercup's scared to death. And look at how thin he is. He needs food, Katniss. I promised I would feed him."

"Feed him!" groans the other girl, his attacker. She sounds exasperated. "Feed him, Prim? The last thing I need is another mouth to feed. That little _animal _is useless!"

More water hits his fur, and he jumps and looks up. Prim is crying, and she clutches tighter onto him. "B-but i-if we don't feed him, h-he'll die!"

His attacker seems to have finally given in. "No, no, Prim, don't cry. Fine, I'll let you keep that _animal_."

Immediately, Prim brightens up. "Really?"

A scrap of food is tossed his way. He devours it immediately.

"Thank you, Katniss! Thank you, thank you, thank you! You're the best sister ever!" shrieks Prim, while Katniss, which by now he's figured is the name of his attacker, groans.

"The things I do for you," she mutters.

008.

This girl, Prim, has saved his life.

And now he must return the favor. He doesn't want to owe anyone. He's not dependent, he is proud and strong.

It's dark now, and he sits in front of the girl's bed, protecting her. If anyone, such as that horrible Katniss, tries to harm her, he will rip them apart. He has faced wild dogs and some of the particularly mean humans, and nothing can stop him from repaying his debt.

009.

She doesn't want anything in return, he realizes.

Prim dotes on him. She never fails to feed him. Every morning, food is there, and she is there. She pets him and tells him that he is soft and pretty. No one has ever told him this before. He had long accepted the fact that he was a hideous cat. Sometimes, Katniss gives him dirty looks as if he would be better as dinner, but she leaves him alone whenever Prim is around. And sometimes Prim leaves him, but she always comes back.

Even as Prim and Katniss and the mother human (who never helps him, like Prim, but at least never harms him, like Katniss) grow thin, he always has food to eat. Prim constantly tells him that she will never, ever abandon him.

He's still worried. He remembers how his own mother was kicked out and left on the streets when the going got tough. So he still keeps in shape. Even though there is always food, he continues to catch mice and sometimes rats. They're still dumb. He constantly hisses at the Katniss girl. And he always, _always _watches over Prim at night, still trying to repay this endless debt.

But days, weeks, months, and even a year passes, and eventually he realizes that she really doesn't want anything in return. Except, maybe, a bit of love. So he gives her this, purring and comforting her whenever she is sad. Prim doesn't seem to realize it's a cat-eat-cat world. Or maybe, she realizes it but still chooses to live as someone who helps, not harms.

And he loves her for it.

010.

Entrails. No hissing. This is the closest they will ever come to love.

He still distrusts Katniss. She's very aware that it's a cat-eat-cat world, and she would probably eat cat if she had to. Katniss is a hunter, he knows. He watches as she brings freshly-killed meat and carefully skins it. Humans have sensitive stomachs, and apparently they can't eat every bit of the meat. But cats can, and sometimes Katniss will give him entrails. So he has stopped hissing at her.

But the entrails are not the only reason why he has stopped hissing. It is because, as the years have gone by, he has realized how much Katniss loves Prim. She would do anything for her.

And he would too.

They have much in common. Two hunters, two survivors, who hate being dependent, who love Prim.

Of course, this does not mean that he loves Katniss. No, definitely not. He still remembers that day years ago when she tried to drown him. But he can empathize, in a way. So he has stopped hissing, and he eats the entrails she gives him.

011.

The goat, Lady.

What a stuck-up, dependent joke.

Katniss brings this goat, this _Lady_, home one day. She's dying and weak and helpless, with a pink ribbon around her neck. And what does Prim do? Prim rushes towards the goat and begs to keep her. For hours, he's neglected while Prim dotes on this Lady, completely set on reviving her. Prim even forgets to feed him dinner. As he watches Prim bandage and pet her, he feels jealousy, and worry, ripping his heart. He hears Katniss boasting about how Lady is actually a useful animal, someone who will make milk and cheese. And he's worried because this means that he might be sent out. Katniss has never liked him, and it seems that Prim has forgotten about him.

Sent out to live on the streets. Just like his mother. Except he won't die. He's still a survivor.

But he'll miss Prim, and he knows it. He's grown attached to the girl, although he'd never admit it. As he watches Prim fall asleep with Lady, her arms around the goat's neck, he realizes that he should leave before he's kicked out.

He has difficulty bringing himself to. He just watches them for a while, trying to remember every feature of this house, and every feature of his Prim. She's taken care of him for a long time, but in the end, she is just like every other human. And if he leaves, he doubts she'll even notice, now that she's got Lady.

Still, he waits until everyone in the house is asleep. Katniss and the oldest human have left Prim and Lady to snuggle and are sleeping in their own separate beds. Then, after one final look, he begins to leave.

But something stops him. Prim stirs. She yawns, and her eyes open.

"Buttercup?" she asks.

He looks away.

"What, are you mad at me?" Prim asks.

He avoids her and refuses to look at her, stubborn in his resolution that he will make no acknowledgement of Prim's existence. Then Prim brings out an old strip of meat and waves it in front of his face. And he can't resist. He snags the meat and hungrily devours it, allowing Prim to take him in her lap and stroke his fur.

"I'm sorry I forgot to feed you dinner, Buttercup," says Prim. "You know I still love you."

He refuses to meet her eyes, giving a pointed glare at Lady.

Prim follows the direction of his eyes and laughs. "You're worried that I can't love you anymore because of Lady?" Then she gives her cat a huge hug. "There's enough love in my heart for all of you, Buttercup. Do you believe that?"

And he knows, just from her gentle, loving tone, that she still loves him. And to tell her this, he purrs.

012.

Eventually he grows to accept Lady.

It turns out that she's a nice enough animal, not in the least bit stuck-up, like he originally thought. Plus she makes food, warm goat milk and goat cheese. She's not an attention hog either. Prim had been right. She has enough love for everybody. He finds it amazing how she distributes truckloads of love to Katniss, Lady, himself, the mother human that lives with them, and just about everybody else in town without expecting anything in return. And she always has more.

He's often wondered how Prim survives in this cat-eat-cat world. Prim is so soft and innocent and dependent that it's a miracle she's still alive. Of course, he's always there to protect her. Him and Katniss and Lady and the mother human and just about everybody else in town.

Maybe that's how she survives. Maybe this love thing works, at least for her.

013.

She's sad. Upset, at least.

"She might leave me forever, Buttercup," Prim whispers. "Katniss might not come back. But she has to! She has to come back! She's so strong and brave; she might win the Hunger Games."

He doesn't completely understand, but he knows that Prim is anguished. And it's his job to comfort her. So he purrs and lets her stroke him and cry on him, and he stays with her.

014.

Katniss is back.

She has been gone for a long time. And now she is back. But things are not the same.

He doesn't exactly understand everything, but now there is a lot more food. Which is good. Katniss herself is different. She seems much older and is always frightened of something. He doesn't know how to feel about that. And they must now live in a new house.

He doesn't like the new, shiny house very much, and he can tell that Katniss doesn't either. The new house is just so unnatural. It smells artificial. He likes the old house, which is natural, which smells of nature and mice to catch. Sometimes, when he closes his eyes in the old house, he can imagine he is a kitten just drinking milk. Milk that never runs out. He can't do this in the new house. In the new house, when he closes his eyes, he remembers the shopkeepers in the shiny part of town shooing him away, letting him starve.

He doesn't belong here, in this shiny house, in the shiny part of town. He feels like a starving cat, trying to beg, getting rejected.

So oftentimes, when Prim is away, he sneaks off to their old house, which is familiar and always has many, many mice to catch. He finds that Katniss does the same thing. They really do have much in common. She strokes his ears and feeds him entrails and other scraps.

But she always goes back to the new house, and he does too. He doesn't know why she does, but he knows why he does.

For Prim.

015.

Katniss is gone again, and Prim is upset.

"I don't know if she can come back a second time," Prim whispers while she strokes him. "I can't believe she has to go again. Someone really wants her dead." Then she's quiet, and thoughtful, as she repeats, "Someone really wants her dead."

The house is awfully empty without Katniss, both the shiny one and the old one. He creeps around the new house as if he's worried someone will kick him out. When he reaches Katniss's bedroom, he's hit with the cloying, undeniably artificial smell of roses. He wonders why Katniss would put such a scent in her room. She, like him, hates things like this.

016.

Bombs are raining from the sky.

He's never experienced anything like it before. He's not exactly sure what the bombs are, but whenever they touch the ground, the ground blows up and everything on it is obliterated.

Animal senses lead him to the forest. He stays there until the bombs stop falling. When he peeks out of the foliage, he sees that only a handful of people have survived. Most of the people are dead, and there are dead bodies everywhere. It smells awful. Almost as bad as that horrible fake rose scent.

He tries to look for Prim amongst the crowd, but everything still smells of death and the humans are all swarming around in one big crowd, frantically moving and crying and searching. He can't even get a whiff of her.

That's okay. Prim will find him. Prim always comes back for him.

017.

There are no live humans anymore.

A few weeks ago, some machines came and took all the living humans away. They forgot about him, though. Which is okay. Perfectly fine. He can get food on his own. And as long as he can eat, everything is okay.

Which is a lie.

He paces in front of the remains of their old house and searches in every nook and cranny of the shiny house, which has miraculously survived. There is no sign of Prim anywhere. There hasn't been a single sign of Prim for days. Weeks. _Months_!

She could be dead. She might've been crushed by the bombs. He can't stand this, not knowing where she is or what happened to her. Why isn't she coming back for him?

He concentrates on feeding himself. He catches mice and rats. There are tons of them. Once or twice he eyes the human carcasses, which have pigeons and other animals feeding on them, and remembers that they _are _food. If he ever runs out of mice, he could eat them.

But he knows he can't. One of them might be Prim. They all smell of death, and he probably couldn't tell the difference. Maybe, before he met Prim, he would've eaten it, because food was food. But now he can't bear to even think of eating it.

018.

He's prowling around the shiny house, eating the last scraps of food in the pantry, when he hears a door, the front door, creak open.

It's Katniss.

At first he can't believe his eyes. Then he's overjoyed, because she smells natural. The only people he's seen in the last few months are fake people, people that smell overly sweet and artificial, like those roses. In fact, the shiny house still reeks of those horrible roses. He watches Katniss from afar for a while. Then he hisses. Because now he's angry. Where is Prim? Why is Katniss here and not Prim? Why hasn't she come back for him?

Katniss spins around and looks at him with a mixture of disbelief and confusion on her face. Then she crouches down and holds out her hand, as if asking him to approach her. "Come here, boy."

He blinks. Why would he approach her? She is not offering food. And he's still angry that he's been left here with no information about Prim, with nothing to eat but mice and old scraps.

"Want to see Prim?" she asks.

_Prim! _Katniss knows where she is? Maybe Prim sent Katniss here to pick him up! Of course! Prim would never abandon him. He tries to meow and purr, but he hasn't done so in a long time and it sounds rusty. He pads over to Katniss, eager but wary. The next thing he knows, he's being stuffed into a bag. It's definitely not comfortable in there, but if this will take him back to Prim, he's willing to stay in there. At least for a while. Anyway, he's not worried about Katniss harming him. Katniss would never harm him if this was what Prim wanted.

He growls as he feels himself being thrown onto something. Katniss seems to have forgotten that she's hauling live cargo in that bag of hers. She really should be more careful. Then again, since when has Katniss cared for his well-being? He reminds himself that he's tolerating this for Prim. But he still growls.

019.

The flap of the bag opens, and he's wary as he comes out. He's never trusted Katniss, and he trusts her even less after being bounced and thrown around in her uncomfortable bag. But immediately he hears a high-pitched squeal that is unmistakably Prim's, and he pads out of the bag eagerly.

Prim looks older, more worn down, less soft and innocent and dependent, and he wonders if this cat-eat-cat world has had its toll on her. This upsets him, because it occurs to him that Prim, after surviving the bombings, may no longer be her same loving self. But when Prim gently takes him into her lap, weeping and rocking him back and forth, he realizes that Prim hasn't changed where it really matters. Yes, this world has had its toll on her. But she's still got truckloads and truckloads of love to deliver.

020.

Bombs are raining from the sky, again.

Not exactly from the sky. There is not a sky where he lives, in this new odd place, which is so secluded. It's underground, and the only way to go aboveground is through a small window. It took a while to get used to, but Prim is there, and there is always food. And as long as he can eat, and as long as he has Prim, everything is okay.

But not right now. Right now, bombs are raining once again. Except this time, animal instinct is not helping him. He cannot find a way out. Everything is collapsing, everything is getting destroyed. Bits and pieces of the ceiling and walls are falling in. He has survived a bombing once. He has an awful, awful feeling that he will not survive it twice. Death by bombing is suddenly very real to him. He meows and cries and yelps. He is completely helpless, and he hates the feeling of it. It's almost like he is drowning again. Except this time, there is no Prim to rescue him.

But there she is! She rushes towards him, grabbing him as the ceiling caves in. And she runs, as fast as she can, into the deeper parts of this underground town. The deeper they go, he realizes, the safer they are. But as another bomb penetrates the surface, he's frightened. Prim might not make it in time. And then they'll both die. Not just him, but Prim also.

Then there's another boy, and he grabs Prim's hand, and all three of them rush down. And finally, they make it to a place that is deep and safe. They have survived.

Katniss yells at them, but Prim and the other boy do not seem to mind. And for the rest of the evening, as they hear bombs exploding above them, Prim strokes and cuddles him, giving the attention his shaken self needs. She whispers in his ear, "I couldn't forget about you again. The last time there was a bombing, I forgot about you. I almost let you die. Not this time. I couldn't risk you again. I could never let you die, Buttercup. You're family."

It isn't until much later into the night, when Buttercup's head is much clearer, that he realizes the full extent of what Prim has done. Prim has saved his life, again. But this time, she's _risked _her life for him. She was willing to die for him, today.

It seems he will never be able to repay his debt. All he can do for now is watch over her bed and make sure that no one ever harms his Prim.

Never.

Ever.

* * *

Prequel to my other fic "Buttercup." I was really surprised (but grateful!) at the response I received for it. I had thought no one would want to read about an ugly cat! Since I can't really write a sequel, I wrote a prequel instead.

R&R, please?


End file.
